


in the meadow, we can build a snowman

by scatteredmoonlight



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Cold Weather, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteredmoonlight/pseuds/scatteredmoonlight
Summary: When the Enterprise gets a surprise shore leave on a planet with a wintery evergreen forest, Jim is none too pleased to be out freezing in the snow.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64
Collections: Kirk/Spock Secret Santa 2020





	in the meadow, we can build a snowman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shyravenns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyravenns/gifts).



> Title from the song Winter Wonderland.
> 
> Happy holidays, shyravenns! Hope you like it, some wintertime ridiculousness. :)

The Enterprise had been ordered to collect data on a planet and send their extensive reports back to Starfleet. The mission could be completed aboard the Enterprise with their computer scanners, but the preliminary data revealed that not only were there no lifeforms on the planet, but the planet also had a snowy forest with Douglas fir trees and other pines, red berries on tree branches and nestled between the evergreen needles. The excitement aboard the ship after realizing that they had happened upon a winter wonderland planet could not be quieted.

“Oh, Captain,” said Uhura, enchanted, “wouldn’t it be so wonderful to have a real winter this year? All of the snow, hot chocolate, bundling up in our warm and cozy starship afterward?”

At the sight of all those eager smiles around the bridge, Jim relented under the pressure before he could even put up a fight. Truthfully, there was also a little Dr. McCoy perched on his shoulder ranting about the stress levels of the crew after being cooped up aboard for so many weeks and months, that time in the snowy planet might do some good.

“All right,” he said, first in a mumble. Then he remembered that as captain of this vessel, he ought to speak up. He switched on the intercom and informed the entire crew of their impromptu shore leave.

Joyful energy burst all over the bridge.

Like clockwork, on the side of his chair, the alert of a message from medbay blinked on. Jim snapped the button. “Yes, Dr. McCoy?”

“Hiya, Captain. Just wanted to let you know that the Enterprise is in safe hands while you’re enjoying the snowflakes.”

Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. A vision flashed in his mind of that massive golden parka with the fluffy faux fur trimming along the hood that Starfleet issued out to everyone in command. The joints in his fingers and toes began to cramp from the mere impending reality of the snow. The allure of Starfleet as a kid fresh out of high school was leaving behind Iowa and its snow in the past.

But the doctor’s orders were in, and he had no choice.

* * *

Jim’s atoms had only just rematerialized after beaming down to the planet before a snowball whipped past his head and smacked right into Spock’s shoulder.

Sulu snickered behind his gloved hand. “Sorry about that, commander!”

Laughing, Uhura slipped a heavily clothed arm around his shoulder and whisked off him into the woods, ducking their heads as they evaded the wild snowballs thrown by Chekov.

Jim watched them leave, pleased for them and wistful of the time when he did not have the weight of the entire Enterprise on his shoulders that prevented him from joining the cheer in good, whole spirit.

Spock stepped beside him, fine tuning the settings on his tricorder. His mittens were thick, double layered with a handknit wool pair from his mother. Jim recognized it as the one his mother had gifted to him after his parents had been aboard the Enterprise when they had flown the ambassadors over to the planet Babel.

The snow from Sulu’s snowball still glittered over Spock’s shoulders. Jim dusted the snow off him.

“I detected soil rich deposits 200 meters from our present location,” said Spock. “Would you care to join me, Captain?”

“I’d be honored.”

The snow crunched under their black winter boots. As a slight breeze drifted by, they instinctively walked closer together, their arms and hands brushing. Jim’s stomach flipped whenever Spock’s mittened hand knocked against his. It would not take much to capture Spock’s hand and hold on. He wondered if Spock would mind so much, given the weather. Jim buried his nose into his thick, wool cowl and tried to put the thought out of mind, but whenever Spock’s hand brushed against his, he thought about it again and again.

They stepped into the woods, and the tranquility stole the breath from Jim’s lungs—the stillness of the trees, the crackle of the fresh snowfall breaking beneath their boots, the wind lightly whistling as it jostled the branches and rained snow from the pine needles. It reminded Jim of wandering into the woods with only himself and a compass, navigating his way through hikes with instincts and science. Spock paused by a tree and took out his tricorder, wordlessly communicating that they had found their goal location. Jim stood beside him, rubbing his hands together and breathing into his palms, wishing that he had brought a compass with him.

A strong wind gushed through.

Jim saw the sure catastrophe before Spock did.

Snow was capping the top of the tree that Spock stood under to study samples through the tricorder, only the wind was far too strong. If Spock did not move, he would be absolutely covered in the snow. Jim did not think, he acted.

He only meant to pushed Spock slightly out of the way, but a slight descent lurked in the ground hidden beneath the snow. His boot plunged far deeper than anticipated into the snow, and Jim was pitched forward, diving and knocking right into Spock.

Spock could not crash into the snow. That would be too terrible. The poor Vulcan needed layers of mittens after all. Jim twisted around as they fell so that his back crashed into the ground, and he plunged deep into the snow, forming a snow angel. His wrist slammed down onto the ground—a white hot burn shooting past his elbow. He ignored it to hold onto Spock, who landed with his back on Jim’s chest, their legs tangling together.

The chunks of snow dropped down and crashed into mounds half a yard high where Spock once stood.

Jim could _hear_ the raised eyebrow. “Fascinating.”

“I’d say,” said Jim.

Spock shifted, moving into a position more comfortable for them both. The snow was frigid against Jim’s back.

Spock’s heart thudded hard. Jim felt it beat against his side. His own heart beat out just as intensely. He wondered if Spock felt it. Spock shifted, but grew still once Jim hugged him closer. His wrist ached from it, but Jim ignored it to hold Spock close to him. Spock was a furnace of cozy heat.

“Jim,” Spock said, “listen to the forest. It is still. It’s safe to move.”

But he did not want to move, only he could not very well tell Spock that. “Right. Logical as always, Mr. Spock.”

Spock rubbed Jim’s wrists in gentle, firm strokes, and Jim had not realized he had been holding onto him so firmly until then. Slowly, he loosened up. Spock slipped out of his embrace and arose, lending out a hand for Jim to grasp.

He hoisted Jim up to a stand. The instant that he pulled at Jim’s wrist, that white hot burn scorched along Jim’s arm. Jim grunted and winced, but he soldiered past the pain to stand up. On two feet, he stumbled, and Spock caught him and held him close. His instincts as the captain to not burden his crew made him struggle, but Spock tightened his hold.

“Captain, you’re injured,” said Spock softly.

“Don’t sound so pleased, Mr. Spock. I’ll start to think it’s revenge for making you fall into the snow back there.”

“Revenge?” Spock’s voice shined with mirth. “No.”

Spock let Jim go and cradled the wounded wrist in his palms. He lightly pushed the golden sleeve of his coat and the cuff of his mitten aside to reveal his bare skin. He traced over Jim’s pulse, the sensitive skin just below his palm, the sinews. Jim’s fingers twitched from the effort of staying still.

Gently, Spock moved his wrist outward. “Does that—?”

Jim seethed. Avoiding Spock’s eye, he muttered. “A tad.”

“It might be sprained.” Tenderly, Spock returned Jim’s coat and mitten back into their proper place. Jim savored the warmth but mourned no longer feeling Spock touching him. Spock flipped open his communicator. “Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam out.”

No one responded.

“Maybe the trees are providing interference,” suggested Jim.

“Are you well enough to walk?”

“It’s just a sprained wrist.”

“Certainly.”

Nevertheless, Spock shrugged Jim’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around Jim’s back as if Jim’s ankle had been twisted instead. They slowly trudged out of the forest. The entire side of Jim pressing up against Spock burned from the proximity, from the warmth they shared, from the mere sensation of Spock pressed up against him. He glanced over at Spock, smiling lightly at the snowflakes caught in his perfectly tamed, jet black hair.

They crossed through the thickest parts of the forest, a tree here and there peppering the snowy landscape. Red, golden, and blue coats ran around throwing snowballs, fell back into the snow to form snow angels, cozied up around a campfire with canisters of steaming tea and coffee. Jim’s stomach flipped at the idea of being safe and warm back on the Enterprise, with Spock at the science station. Nothing would surround Jim but the quiet beeps from the bridge and the stars on the view screen.

Spock flipped open his communicator. “Spock to Enterprise.”

“Enterprise here, Mr. Spock,” replied an ensign. Roberts, who took over Uhura’s position while she threw snowballs with Sulu and Chekov.

“Two to beam up,” said Spock.

“Right away, sir.”

The transport beam chimed like jingle bells as they returned to the warmth of the Enterprise.


End file.
